


Believe in Better Things

by trekkiepirate



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Charlie's still a twat though, Chester is a grade A bastard, Eggsy is the most precious egg, Everyone is canon ages, F/F, F/M, Gazelle and Valentine aren't evil, Gazelle could still probably kill you, I AM NOT AT ALL SURE ABOUT MY TITLE, I'm sorry for what I did to Eggsy's family, M/M, May Frances Hudgson Burnett have mercy on my soul, Secret Garden!AU, Slow Burn, What even is my summary?, it may change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trekkiepirate/pseuds/trekkiepirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hartwin Secret Garden!AU. Eggsy finds himself at Kingsman Manor, presided over by the elusive Lord Hart. Given nearly free reign over the place, Eggsy ventures into the one place he was forbidden from and changes everyone's lives along the way. His own most of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kingsman Manor

**Author's Note:**

> Rating may go up as I go along (currently it's just for Eggsy's cursing, but if I can get myself to write the damn smut chapter, there may be some smut). Also, this story is nearly completed (looking to be about 13 chapters like my last long fic), but I'll be posting chapters on and off according to the whims of real life. The first is just to gauge interest.

Eggsy frowned at the bald man who had picked him up at the train station. “The solicitor said something about an uncle?”

The man shrugged. “If you'd like to think of Lord Hart as your pseudo-uncle, you may. Your late father and Lord Hart were brothers in arms during their military days. In fact, he gave you that medallion you're wearing.”

Unconsciously, Eggsy hand rose to where it lay against his chest. It, along with the small duffel of clothes he'd taken from his Marine training barracks, were all the possessions he had left in the world. The fire on the estate took everything else, including his mother and soon-to-be baby sister.

“Come along,” the bald man, Merlin he'd introduced himself as but Eggsy would eat his fucking cap if that were the Scot's real name. Then again, he thought as the two of them climbed into a cab, posh people were fucking weird.

Posh, Eggsy had thought when the solicitor told him that he was not as alone in this world as he'd thought, due to someone called Lord Hart. Posh did not begin to cover the sprawling mansion that Merlin called Kingsman Manor as they pulled up to the driveway. This was some royalty level shit. “He a cousin of the queen or summat?”

Merlin shook his head and ate a bun. “No. Not the House of Windsor anyway. His ancestors were the gamekeepers here; this was a royal hunting cottage until Elizabeth I gifted it to the family for years of loyal service.”

“A cottage?” Eggsy raised his eyebrows.

Merlin looked up this time. “Compared to the palaces of the time, yes. Compared to today's standards, it is of course far too big for a bachelor and his ward. Which is why, once he learned of your circumstances, Lord Hart saw fit to extend the offer of permanent accommodations to you.”

Eggsy nodded and tried to sink deeper into the cab's plush interior. He'd never felt so out of his element and he wasn't even in the fucking door yet.

When he was, Eggsy couldn't resist the instinct to look up to the very far away ceiling and turn in a slow, appraising circle. He let out a whistle. “Very, very nice.”

The hint of a smirk graced Merlin's lips. “I'm glad you approve. I'll show you to your rooms and we'll go over ground rules.” He led Eggsy up the main staircase. “Breakfast will be taken in your room, as will tea. Dinner is at seven o'clock and you will be prompt,” Merlin eyed Eggsy, “as well as dressed for the occasion.”

Eggsy glared. “Can't see that happening, mate. All I got is this,” he hefted his bag on his shoulder, “and there ain't no suit in it.”

“Lord Hart foresaw this and so has supplied some of his own suits for now. The tailor will call tomorrow afternoon for your measurements to get your own set made up as soon as possible. Personally,” Merlin smiled, ever so slightly, “I'm interested to see how you will fit into Lord's Hart clothes at all.”

The answer, Eggsy learned after a long nap and an alarm on his phone that he did not remember setting began to blare, was not well at all.

“Fuck me, fucking Slenderman freak,” Eggsy murmured as he tried to hitch up the dragging hems of the trousers to earn a little more space around his thighs. The jacket sleeves were no better. If Eggsy wore it, it'd trail into the soup. There was bound to be soup, Eggsy watched Downton Abbey with his mum and all.

With a defeated sigh, Eggsy left the jacket tucked over his arm. If Lord Hart complained, he could shove it up his stodgy old arse. Eggsy was just fussing over the tie when a knock came at the door. “C'min!”

It was a girl, maybe a bit older than Eggsy, her black hair cut into fringe you could cut a throat with. “Hello, I'm Gazelle and you are doing that wrong.”

“Knew that, thanks,” Eggsy said as the woman set down a box and walked over to him.

As Gazelle began to knot the tie, she nodded towards the box. “Some books. No television, but Merlin's had wifi hooked up in this place since it was invented, so he'll probably get you a laptop if you eat all your vegetables and ask him nicely. Until then,” she patted the tie into place, “there's the grounds to wander. Some lovely gardens. Ask Valentine, he's head gardener, to summon Roxy and she'll show you the best places.” A soft smile moved Gazelle's lips. “Now, the jacket,” she gestured for it.

Eggsy shook his head. “Sleeves are too long, luv,” he winked, cut off when he felt a sharp pain in his foot. He looked down to see a knife protruding from Gazelle's prosthetic leg and being pressed into the delicate skin at the top of his foot.

Gazelle's eyes hardened. “Never call me that again.” Her thigh twitched and the blade receded, leaving her standing on both feet again.

“Understood,” Eggsy said, arms raised in surrender as he checked for blood. None, but it was a near thing. “But the arms are still way too long for me to wear. This Lord Hart a giant or summat?”

A cold, appraising look over his frame. “I don't think it would take a giant to make you seem,” she pursed her lips, “stocky. And I wouldn't know about Lord's Hart appearance anyway. I've never seen him. Not in person anyway. There's a portrait around someplace though.”

“Never seen?” Eggsy's eyebrows raised. “How long have you been,” he took a guess, “working here, then?”

“Ten years,” Gazelle answered as she gathered the clothes Eggsy had shed and placed them into a wicker hamper. “Since I was eighteen.”

Eggsy frowned as he sat down to pull on the black socks and polished shoes. “And you ain't ever seen your employer?”

“Merlin takes care of the day to day things. Lord Hart, when he's not abroad on business trips for most of the year, stays in his rooms. I believe the only people here who have ever seen Lord Hart are Merlin and Valentine.”

“I thought he had a ward?” Eggsy, asked, remembering what Merlin had said.

Gazelle nodded. “He does. Charlie was brought here after his parents died when he was quite young. He attends Cambridge on and off, but of course he's taken yet another gap year and he's back here. Charlie has never seen Lord Hart either.” A frown crossed her face. “Though, if I were Lord Hart, I'd be grateful for small mercies. Now,” she moved to the door, “I'll show you the way to the dining room.”

Eggsy sighed. “It's going to be gigantic and posh, innit?”


	2. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie shows up and is a tosser, as per usual.

The dining room was gigantic and posh.

The table was exquisitely set with three places. One of them already occupied.

“Well, Lord Hart has always been one for reverse discrimination.”

Eggsy bristled. Ill-fitting suit or not, this bloke was about to meet Eggsy's fist and there wasn't gonna be nothing gentlemanly about it.

Gazelle stepped between them. “Charlie, this is Eggsy.”

“Eggy?” Charlie looked delighted at the prospects for rudeness the nickname would provide.

“Eggsy,” Gazelle enunciated. “And Lord Hart left strict instructions for us all about making him feel welcome at Kingsman Manor. In fact,” she grinned, “he'll be asking Eggsy about it in person when he returns from his business trip next week.”

Charlie looked livid. “In person? I've been here nearly twenty years and he's never wanted to meet me! Lord Hart wants to meet,” he gestured to Eggsy, “that pleb in person?”

Eggsy squared his posture. “You wanna go, mate?”

As if from nowhere, Merlin stepped between them. “Enough. Charlie, you will be civil to Eggsy or I'll chop your bollocks off and feed them to you for dessert. Eggsy, you will remove that chip from your shoulder and be polite.”

Eggsy swallowed hard, but nodded. “Yeah, fine. I don't have to spend any time with him, do I?”

“I believe Lord Hart hoped you young men might get along, but no, Eggsy, other than at dinner, you never have to see Charlie.”

“Good,” Eggsy said as Charlie fumed silently.

Merlin smirked. “Now, this is well worth my time to see.” He looked Eggsy over. “Couldn't get the jacket on?”

“Sleeves were too long, 's all,” Eggsy mumbled, feeling like a child who'd been caught playing dress-up in his parents' closet.

The bald man sent a withering glare to answer Charlie's snigger. “As I thought. You can leave that off until Alistair gets your own made. The trousers,” he shook his head, “can be pinned up for now. It's only a few hours a night, anyhow.”

“But Lord Hart ain't even here to see it,” Eggsy pointed out. “Why do I gotta get smarted up at all?”

“More like tarted up,” Charlie murmured into his wineglass so Merlin wouldn't hear.

“I heard that,” Merlin said. “No pudding for you, Charlie. If you insist on continuing to act like a naughty bairn, you'll be treated as such. As for the clothes, Eggsy, Lord Hart likes to uphold certain... gentlemanly standards, if not traditions. You'd do well to observe them. I know he has high hopes for you. As do I.”

Eggsy's mind whirled as Gazelle brought in a wheeled tray with three covered plates. He was a nobody from the council estates who left marine training because his mum had died. What could a Lord of anything see in him that could make someone hopeful? “What am I supposed to do then?”

Merlin laid a napkin in his lap. “Lord Hart wants to evaluate you in person. He should be returning from abroad sometime in the next week or so. Until then, I suggest you keep busy. There's an extensive library. Or if you prefer the outdoors, there's some lovely gardens and you're free to explore them. Except,” Merlin paused in the act of lowering his fork to the salad on his plate, “for the locked door. Obviously, the fact that it is locked means you are not permitted to enter. I cannot guarantee Lord Hart's clemency if you disobey.”

“Right, right,” Eggsy nodded, already planning what tools he'll need to pick the lock. And to look up the word 'clemency'.

Eggsy's up the next morning with a few bobby pins from the well-stocked bathroom, a couple lock-picking tools he'd hidden in his duffel and a new word to add to his vocabulary.


	3. Valentine and Roxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine is cool and Roxy is a Disney Princess (aka Dickon).

It was surprisingly easy to find Valentine. Eggsy had figured on an exhausting search of the extensive grounds, but the man was in the back garden when Eggsy headed down after lunch.

What was surprising was that the man was an American.

“Too many Americans neglect their landscaping. Put in a couple shrubs and call it a day. Nah man, you wanna see some true gardening shit, you gotta come to Europe,” the man lisped when Eggsy had inquired. See that?” he pointed to some hedgerows. “Most Americans don't properly appreciate a good hedge, let alone know how to properly shape them. Unless it's into Mickey Mouse at Disneyworld or some shit.”

Eggsy decided instantly to like Valentine. “So, what should I check out first?”

As Valentine began his tangent, Eggsy practiced looking interested and waited for anything about the locked door. He half hoped it was an elephant graveyard or, like, some robber's den. Maybe Robin Hood's? Was Robin Hood even real? Eggsy knows Sherwood Forest is real, probably even around here somewhere, but was the whole 'robbing from the rich to give to the poor' deal just a story?

Eggsy tuned back in with both ears when he heard Valentine say the name 'Roxy'.

“Gazelle mentioned a Roxy,” Eggsy nodded like he wasn't quickly reworking his plan in his head. He'd need to shake her if she offered him a tour. “She another gardener?”

Valentine smiled, but shook his head. “Nah. She's just from the village; she doesn't work here.”

“A local girl?” Eggsy asked. It might be nice to have someone around who didn't make Eggsy feel like he was Eliza fucking Doolittle.

“She's the tailors' daughter.”

Ah yes, the tailor. Alistair Morton had poked, prodded, and measured Eggsy that morning. He was a quiet, but not unkind man who asked if Eggsy had any colour preferences instead of inquiring about fabric types or cuts. Eggsy knew fuck all about suits that didn't come off a final sales rack at Burton's when there was a funeral or a wedding.

Morton seemed to sense that. He even cracked a smile when Eggsy joked about an orange dinner jacket. “Gotta liven this place up a bit, eh?”

Eggsy was ready to meet this Roxy, but was not prepared when Valentine whistled and a robin flew from the tree to land on the hand of the gardener's shovel. Nor could he contain his astonishment when Valentine fucking. Talked. To. The. Bird.

“Hey little man, go find Roxy. The new kid showed up.”

The robin flew off as if he were on a mission to save the world.

“The fuck was that, mate?”

Valentine shrugged. “Animals like Roxy. It's some real Disney princess fuckery.”

“I do wish you'd stop referring to me like that,” said a voice behind Eggsy's left shoulder blade.

“Jesus! Fucking hell,” he jumped.

“Roxanne Morton,” the girl said, holding out a hand like she hadn't just scared five years off Eggsy's life. “Call me Roxy.” Her accent was as polished as her sleek ponytail, despite the mud on her work boots.

“I thought you was from here?”

Roxy raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I am.”

“Don't sound it,” Eggsy frowned, all hope of allying with her against the posh folks crumbling.

“Lord Hart used to give me elocution lessons,” Roxy answered. “And my fathers met at Oxford.”

Eggsy only heard the first part of that sentence. “You've met Lord Hart? Like, seen him in person, yeah?”

Roxy nodded. “Yes, though I was only a child. It was twenty years ago now, before-” her eyes flickered over Eggsy's shoulder and when he turned around, all he saw was Valentine, just finishing a sharp glare, “'before my fathers decided to tutor me themselves.” She ended the sentence smoothly, not a hesitation to suggest she'd been lying.

Which she obviously was.

“Look,” Eggsy said as they started down a path towards a rose garden, “I know fuck all about flowers. Is there anything else to do? Maybe something with walls I can parkour off of?”

Smirking, Roxy said, “Well, there's the obstacle course.”

Eggsy subtle tactics were put on hold as he stared. “Hang on, an obstacle course? Why the fuck does this place have an obstacle course?”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Roxy pushed aside enough of her tweed jacket to reveal the Royal Marines tee shirt beneath. “I was told you were in training for it before-” this time she cut herself off.

“Yeah,” Eggsy said as the weight in his heart made itself known. “Was in basic training. Mum hated it; said it was too dangerous and I'd end up cannon fodder like my dad and leave her alone with the baby she was gonna have and my shit of a stepdad. Turns out, being in basic was the only reason I didn't burn to death like everyone else,” he kicked a nearby decorative stone wall, hoping to scatter the rocks. Which had been cemented together, he realized, as his brain registered the pain in his toe. “Fuck,” he hissed.

Roxy made a clucking noise with her tongue. “Valentine hates loose stone.” She whistled a low note and an actual, honest-to-god squirrel scampered from a hedge with a decent sized rock in its hand, which it promptly handed over to Roxy when she bent down. “Here, you can throw this if you'd like, but not in that direction,” she pointed over the heather, “because that's where the foxes have their burrows. Don't want to hurt any of the new kits.”

Eggsy stared at her. “Are you Doctor Doolittle?”

“Take the stone or don't, Eggsy.”

So he did, but ended up putting in his pocket. The anger and guilt had receded after that weird little display. “Look,” he turned to face Roxy, “I'd like to wander a bit. Alone, like. You mind?”

Roxy looked a moment away from hugging him and patting his head. “Of course. If you need me, the animals always know where I am. Ask any of them to fetch me.”

“Don't think I won't be asking about that later,” Eggsy smiled to set her at ease. “Oh hey,” he called as she started to walk away, “Merlin said there's a place I'm not supposed to go. All locked up and hush hush. Where is it? Wouldn't like to stumble into it by accident and find myself out on my arse.”

Roxy fixed him with a strange look. “It's just past those roses and to the left. The obstacle course is to the right, if you want to run that. I find that doing so helps me when my mind is in a muddle.”

Eggsy winked at her, an old habit. “Brilliant. I'll go check that out then. Cheers, Rox.”

He strode off through the rose garden until he came to a fork. On the right was an obstacle course that looked just like the one he'd run dozens of times in basic. To the left was a high stone wall, overgrown with weeds and ivy.

Eggsy turned left.


	4. The Sweetest, Most Mysterious-looking Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy finds a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this is such a short chapter, I'm uploading the next one (maybe two) to compensate. Chapter title is a quote from The Secret Garden.

Eggsy sighed as he untangled his hands from the vines around the wall. Still no keyhole. Merlin had said the place was locked up, but maybe what he meant was sealed like a concrete wall. Shuffling forward a step, Eggsy thrust his hands through the ivy and felt around. No keyhole, but at the very edge of his fingertips, the stone dipped into what felt like iron.

“Jackpot,” Eggsy grinned as he slide over a couple steps and felt around again. Wrought-iron, it felt like, fancy as shit. Tracing the patterns of what seemed to be leaves, Eggsy finally found the small opening meant for the key. He looked around, a habit that was unnecessary in such an out of the way place, and knelt down. The lock went easy as soft butter and Eggsy grinned again. “All right, what's so important about you, eh?” He already had bets with himself going. A haunted graveyard full of posh old ancestors, a secret laboratory where Lord Hart was building some sort of doomsday device he was planning to use to take over the world, and a dungeon full of the bones of ancient criminals were among Eggsy's favourites of the scenarios he'd been concocting in his head for the past nineteen hours. What he found was none of those things.

It was a garden.

Even Eggsy who, until recently, had never lived too far from the end of a Tube line, knew that this was a garden.

It was in a fucking state though, it was. While the other gardens Eggsy had seen were obviously tended to through the recent winter by Valentine's expert hand, this place looked like it hadn't seen a garden tool in Eggsy's lifetime.

But for all that, for all the weeds and dead branches and overgrowth, it was alive.

There were roses, not like the manicured bushes he'd just walked past, but still budding with what promised to be scores of booms. Down a path, where weeds had nearly covered all the neat stone steps leading to it, was a fountain. It was long since dry, but now it poured over with sprays of tiny blue flowers. There was a wooden swing seat anchored to an oak tree that had probably been planted by King Arthur.

Eggsy loved it on first sight.

When he looked closer, Eggsy could see all sorts of green sprouts in the ground, struggling for sun through the canopy of weed growth.

“Just needs a bit of care,” he said to himself, then paused. No one had spoken in this garden for decades, probably, and his next words came out in a whisper, “I got you,” Eggsy promised the greenery around him.”You just need some TLC, right, and you'll be the prettiest thing around for miles.”

Eggsy knelt down gingerly, and began to clear away the weeds from all the little green shoots he could see. “There, there,” he cooed as he made their way to the sun easier. “I've got you.”

He didn't stop working until the dinner bell (which sounded like it should be calling the faithful to prayer) rang. Eggsy surveyed the work he'd done, frowning when he realized how small the area he'd cleared was. “I'll be back,” he promised, stretching his work-sore muscles. As he turned to leave through the old door, he tapped a statue of some kind looking person, who was probably a saint Eggsy had never heard of. “I'll come back tomorrow,” he vowed as solemn as a church.

Hiding his lock picks amongst the ivy, Eggsy arranged a couple twigs into an x-shape to mark where the door hid.

He sprinted back back to the rose garden and tried to look as if he'd been running the obstacle course instead of playing nursemaid to an abandoned garden. That was Eggsy's secret and if there's one thing his life to this point had taught it, it was how to keep a secret.


	5. Oxfords, Not Brogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy learns more about the inhabitants of Kingsman Manor.

“You're certainly getting the most from that course,” Merlin noted at dinner a week later. “You were always stocky-”

Eggsy frowned because, truth or not, find a new adjective, people.

“-but now you're filling out with some proper muscles. How's the flexibility coming along?”

Eggsy had let slip about his aborted gymnastics career a few days ago and while Charlie had mocked (as was his dickhead wont), Merlin had shown Eggsy to the gymnasium after dessert.

Because of course this fucking giant of a house had a gym of its own. Eggsy was still waiting to find the bowling alley and roller rink.

“It's coming along great, ta,” Eggsy said.

Merlin nodded in approval. “ We'll get Amelia to add some more protein to your breakfasts.”

Eggsy smiled at the bald man. “You're the guv'nor.”

The first time Eggsy had called Merlin that (when he'd finally been given the wifi password), he'd gotten an eye roll for his trouble, but now it seemed the man rather enjoyed the nickname.

“It's good to see you settling down into a routine,” Merlin hummed.

And it was a routine, Eggsy mused. Every morning before breakfast, Eggsy reacquainted himself with the rigors of a training regime. After breakfast, he'd stop by the kitchen to beg Amelia, the quiet cook, for a packed lunch to eat as he worked in the garden until dinnertime.

Every day she had a new sandwich for him to try and chips made out of sweet potatoes that were Eggsy's new addiction.

“If I marry you,” Eggsy winked as he accepted the brown paper bag the next morning, “will you tell me what you do to the chips to make 'em so orgasmic?”

Amelia rolled her eyes and stopped kneading her bread to pluck a necklace from beneath her blouse. On it was a diamond ring. “I actually am getting married and Hugo won't be getting the recipe either, so that'd be a no, Eggsy.”

Feeling bad to have flirted with an engaged woman, Eggsy removed the medal from under his own shirt as an eye for an eye on hidden things.

Amelia made a soft sound and put a hand to her mouth, heedless of the flour she smeared across her face.

“Lord Hart gave me this,” he explained. “After my dad died. Course I was too little to remember anything 'bout it really.” He shrugged.

“Eggsy,” Amelia said, “open the first drawer of my desk there.” She pointed to where she made the grocery lists and kept the kitchen's accounts on an old computer that she'd built from parts Merlin had acquired for her.

Eggsy did as she said and found an identical medal laying atop a folder.

“We all have them,” she said. “All of us who work here. It's why we work here.” Amelia sat on a nearby stool and wiped her hands. “Lord Hart, he was special ops. The leader, commander I guess. There was a mission, a half dozen people strong with Lord Hart heading it up. He's the only one who came back alive.”

Eggsy couldn't breathe. His dad had been special ops? His mum never said; had she even known? “Who?”

“My mother,” Amelia answered. “My father had died when I was a baby and Gran looked after me while Mum was deployed. Lord Hart brought the news and that medal. Told me to call the number if I was ever in need, which I wasn't until Gran passed. He put me through culinary school and I've worked here since the day I graduated.”

“Called the number?” Eggsy turned his medal to see the date stamped on the back. He vaguely remembered a man's voice, kind and sad, telling him to call if he were ever in trouble. To say the phrase 'Oxfords, not brogues' as a secret code. Eggsy assumed it was too late by the time Dean entered their lives and he never called, not even when Dean broke his collarbone so he'd had to quit gymnastics.

But after receiving the call about the fire, after learning that all he'd ever known had literally gone up in flames, Eggsy had left the barracks and got as drunk as the money he'd had let him. He'd called the number, sobbing to the customer service lady who'd answered about the fire and he barely remembered to say the phrase before he rung off.

The next morning, the solicitor called.

Eggsy looked at Amelia. “Everyone?”

“Merlin he's known since school, but all the rest of us, yes. Gazelle's uncle, Valentine's wife, Charlie's parents. Lord Hart never felt he could look the boy in the eyes, so he's never approached him. But he cares,” Amelia sighed, “in his own way. Gave Charlie the best of everything money could buy. Even had my predecessor Ms. Nicols feed him a steady stream of whatever sweets he fancied.” Amelia shook his head. “And now look at him. Spoiled to the core, no job, barely attends Cambridge. Just orders everyone save Merlin around as if he's the lord and spends all his time hunting Roxy's foxes and slutting his way through the village. I'm all for a healthy sex life,” Amelia said, standing and returning to her bread, “but all flash and no substance can't be good for him. And well, you've met him. He's a right bastard. I tell you, one of the worst things for a child is to be given his own way all the time.”

Eggsy felt a small pang of pity for Charlie. Sure he'd had the money and comforts Eggsy could have only dreamed of, but he hadn't had bruvs like Jamal and Ryan. He hadn't had a mum who did the best she could even when it wasn't quite good enough. He didn't have a purpose, like Eggsy had found in the garden.

Would he still be such an enormous dickhead if Lord Hart had shown him affection instead of guilty indulgence?

Eggsy found himself musing on this things, and the revelations he'd learned about his own father, as he strolled to the garden.


	6. Roxy Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin.

Roxy was waiting outside the door to the garden, with Eggsy's lock pick kit in one hand and the trowel he'd nicked from Valentine's well-stocked shed in the other.

“Fuck me,” Eggsy said eloquently.

The girl arched a perfect eyebrow. “I do hope there's an alternative option.”

“I found that,” he pointed to the trowel, “in the bottom of a drawer. Couldn't have been used in years. It ain't stealing if no one wants it.”

Roxy handed the trowel to Eggsy hilt first, as if it were a knight's sword. “I'm more astonished you got past Valentine's security system.”

Eggsy shrugged. “Wasn't hard.”

“I assume this wasn't either,” she handed over the lock picks. “You found the door? You've been inside?”

Relieved that Roxy didn't seem inclined to grass him up, Eggsy nodded. “It's a garden.”

“I know.”

“How?”

Roxy sighed. “It was open once. I was very small, shortly after my fathers adopted me. They were pushing me on this old wood swing.”

“It's still there,” Eggsy smiled.

“Can I come in with you?” Roxy asked.

“Didn't you already go in?” Eggsy waved the kit for emphasis.

Roxy fixed him with a look that layered sweetness over mockery. “Unlike some, I don't go in to places unless I have been invited.”

Eggsy took the ribbing for what it was. “Why? You some vampire, huh?”

The two looked at each other another moment before bursting into laughter.

Roxy nudged Eggsy in the side. “I found the x. Dug up the, frankly, clumsily buried contraband and I have been dying to go in ever since.”

Eggsy nodded. “Let's put ya out of your misery then. C'mon,” he slipped through the ivy and unlocked the door, crooking a finger for Roxy to follow him.

She stepped through, brushing aside the foliage that Eggsy had already learned to avoid. “Ohh,” she breathed.

“It's a secret, right?” Eggsy said. “It's gotta be. No one else wants it, but I- I wanna take care of it. I think I can, even. Don't tell anyone, I ain't hurtin' nothin'.”

Roxy held up a hand to forestall Eggsy's continued ramblings. “It's just as you said: it's not stealing if no one wants it. You're making progress,” she nodded to the cluster of weeds Eggsy had cleared. “How'd you know what to do?”

Eggsy shrugged. “Plants need light. The weeds was so thick they was choking them. I just gave them some space.”

Roxy knelt and studied the sprouts. “Huh,” she said.

“What's that mean, then?”

“They're all different kinds,” she stood. “Most gardens have groupings of flowers of the same type. But this looks like someone planted one of each kind they wanted. No real regard for sunlight and water needs. It's a bit haphazard to be honest.”

Eggsy stared. “You know what they are? From what they look like now?”

Roxy nodded. “I've walked the moor since I could walk. I know all the different plants that can grow on it.”

“Help me,” Eggsy said. “I'm doing my best but I don't know what anything is 'cept the roses. I don't wanna kill something because I'm a city numpty.”

Laughing, Roxy said, “Deal. All this garden needs is a little waking up. I'll be here every day, rain or shine.”

“Me too,” Eggsy promised.

“Now, what about these?” she nudged the weed pile with a booted foot.

“There's nothing under there,” Eggsy said. “It's the only really empty spot, so I just dumped them there. Couldn't toss 'em over the wall or burn them, obvs.”

Roxy whistled two shrill notes.

A robin, presumably the same messenger that fetched her the first day, answered the call.

“Nest building,” she pointed towards the dead branches and weeds.

The robin swooped down and pecked around before carrying a twig away in its beak.

Roxy smiled. “Let the word get out and the birds should have that cleared away soon. Then you can plant whatever you like in the plot.”

Eggsy crossed his arms. “You know that's a freaky talent, that.”

“I know,” Roxy breezed, “but handy.”

With Roxy's expertise and Eggsy's enthusiasm, the day passed quickly, both flushed with exertion by the time the distant dinner bell sounded.

As they locked the door behind them, Roxy said, “I'll stop by tomorrow. You'll probably be too busy.”

Eggsy scoffed. “Doing what? I finished all the books Gazelle brought and my phone signal is for shit out here.”

Roxy's lips pursed. “Lord Hart's due back tomorrow. Gazelle said he wanted to see you.”

“You know Gazelle?”

Roxy laughed. “Considering we've been dating the past two years, I would think I know her very well. Biblically, even.”

Eggsy suddenly felt like the biggest prat for his silly flirting that first day. “My gaydar has been malfunctioning,” he offered as an explanation.

Roxy raised an eyebrow. “And yourself?”

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other, mate,” he winked.

“Mine needs an adjustment as well,” Roxy commented. “I had you down as the proverbial arrow.”

Eggsy shrugged. “Couldn't advertise that I like blokes as well as birds,” he said. “Not back on the estate. Get my arse stomped, or worse.”

Roxy rested a hand on his arm. “Contrary to old books, we're quite open out here. No one's throwing pride parades in the town square, but some shops keep their rainbow flags up. My fathers stopped getting bricks through the window before I came along. Gazelle and I have dates in the village. Merlin even runs a small group for the handful of asexuals around the county. You don't have to worry here. It's safe.”

Safe wasn't a word that Eggsy had been able to apply to his environment in years. On a whim, he pulled Roxy into a hug. “Thanks, Rox. You're a good mate.”

Roxy smiled and took his elbow as they walked back to the manor. “Invite me for dinner. I'll get to see Gazelle in her cute little uniform and I want a front row seat to that moron Charlie's meltdown because tomorrow you get to meet Lord Hart. Think his over-sized head will explode by the fish course?”

Eggsy's stomach churned and it wasn't hunger, though he'd shared his lunch with Roxy.

What if Lord Hart thought he wasn't good enough to stay at the manor?


	7. A Bit of Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THAT'S RIGHT THEY FINALLY MEET FACE-TO-FACE! STEEL YOURSELVES
> 
> Also, Harry tells Eggsy more details about his father and Eggsy asks for something.

“Oh, you are joking,” Merlin said when he fetched Eggsy from his room the next day.

“What? It's my best gear, innit?” Eggsy turned on his winged ADIDAS to show off the jacket. “Nicked 'em from the best shops, I did.”

“I'm pretending to have not heard that,” Merlin addressed his omnipresent clipboard. He looked up again. “You could have worn a suit.”

That's what Eggsy had put on after breakfast, but as time passed -time he'd much have preferred to spend in the garden- the desire to impress Lord Hart had waned. After lunch, he'd changed into his current outfit. If Lord Hart had missed tea time, it was going to be trackies and a vest.

“They don't fit right and I look like mutton dressed as shit in 'em. Lord Hart wants to see me smarted up, he can see it at dinner.”

Noting the young man's defiant chin raise, Merlin sighed and led him down a wing Eggsy hadn't explored yet.

Merlin knocked at a door and gestured for Eggsy to wait on a nearby bench. He slipped inside and Eggsy tried not to feel nervous.

And failed.

Counting sculpted leaves on a nearby vase to pass the time, Eggsy was at 51 before Merlin emerged. “In you get, lad.”

Eggsy stepped into a very well-furnished study. Though the expensive and elegant décor was somewhat ruined by a series of framed front pages from The Sun, of all things. Eggsy was reading the headlines when a bookcase opened, because of course a house like this had secret passages.

Didn't stop Eggsy from leaping a foot in the air when a man stepped out. “Jesus,” Eggsy clutched his chest. “Fuck me, mate, a little warning.”

“Terribly sorry,” the man said.

Eggsy took a proper look at the man who must be Lord Hart and his brain helpfully supplied 'Oh please, fuck me mate.'

He'd expected Lord Hart to be some geezer with white hair and a paunch.

The man standing before he was tall and though definitely older, closer to forty or fifty than the eighty something year old Eggsy had imagined.

He was also well fucking fit. His suit showed off his figure impeccably and Eggsy saw the long legs and slim limbs that made up the reason that Lord Hart's old suits didn't fit Eggsy's frame at all. Hell, he looked like a film star.

Eggsy was having trouble breathing.

Lord Hart approached Eggsy, looking at him like the younger man was a mirage. Or a ghost. “You have your father's eyes.”

“Eh,” Eggsy said, feeling like kicking himself for the inelegant response.

This close Lord Hart's eyes were a soft brown that reminded Eggsy of hot cocoa on a cold winter's night. And when the fuck did he become a shit poet? Fucking Christ.

“I'm sorry I was late, as I said. Couldn't be helped, I'm afraid.” Lord Hart took a step back. “Are you settling in all right, Gary?”

“Eggsy,” the correction came automatically. “M'name. I prefer to go by Eggsy.” He paused. “Lord Hart,” tacked on the end like the afterthought it was.

“Eggsy then,” Lord Hart smiled slightly and Eggsy's knees went embarrassingly wobbly. “You must call me Harry, then. All this Lord Hart business makes me feel like I should be sailed away to Avalon.”

Eggsy blinked.

Harry noticed. “Excalibur?”

Now Eggsy was frowning in confusion.

“The Sword in the Stone? Monty Python and the Holy Grail?”

“That the one with the dead parrot?”

“My point is,” Harry said, “I feel like a cinematic King Arthur.”

“Ohh,” Eggsy said as the penny dropped. Seriously, all those were films about King Arthur? He only knew the one. “Like in Camelot.”

Harry smiled slightly. “Well, you are full of surprises. Yes, like Camelot, though with less singing I should think.” He gestured for Eggsy to sit in a plush-looking armchair while Harry himself sat behind a desk so large it would have made a serviceable bed.

Okay, stop that train of thought right at the station, Unwin.

“Now,” Harry said, “Merlin tells me you're enjoying the grounds, particularly the obstacle course.”

Eggsy shifted at the lie.

“You needn't feel like a prisoner here, Eggsy,” Harry continued. “If you'd like to return to basic training, I'd be happy to-”

“-No!” Eggsy shocked both of them with his outburst. “I mean, sorry but, but I'd like to stay here. If that's all right?”

Harry nodded. “Of course it's all right. I wouldn't have offered you a place in my home if I weren't happy to let you stay. In fact, I'm glad to see someone enjoy the place properly. Every month you'll receive an allowance from Merlin so you can go to the village and buy whatever you like. Is there anything you want, though? More clothes? Books? Some video games where the object is to destroy as many pixellated zombies as possible?”

Eggsy laughed. “Well, I wouldn't say no. But actually,” he sobered to remember the secret he was keeping from a man that Eggsy was already developing an embarrassing crush on, “could I have a bit of earth?” What the actual fuck was that phrasing, even. Together, Unwin. Get. It. Together.

Harry startled. “What? For what purpose?”

“To plant seeds in. To make things grow,” Eggsy began to ramble. “I wouldn't bother Valentine none and I'd- I'd find a place no one was using, out of the way, like.”

Harry stared at Eggsy so long the young man felt his guilt was written on his face and he would be soon thrown out on his arse. “Yes, Eggsy. You may have your bit of earth.”

Eggsy beamed. “And I can take it from anywhere so long as no one's using it, right?” It wasn't exactly permission to tend the secret garden, but Eggsy felt he could defend himself if stroke when his deception were discovered. It was obvious it was unwanted by all. All except Eggsy. And maybe Roxy.

“Anywhere,” Harry's eyes were sad now, but his voice was politely interested. “What will you plant, dear boy?”

Eggsy's heart beat faster and he chose to believe it was less the unexpected endearment and more because he'd hadn't actually thought that far ahead. “A vegetable garden,” Eggsy blurted. “Mum,” gaze shifted to the chair's arms, “she used to talk about having a little plot to grow our own food. Not having to rely on-” Dean's drug money. Neighbor's kindness. Eggsy's own quick fingers. “-anyone else. And some flowers too. Daisies. That's what Mum planned to call the baby. Daisy.”

His eyes had barely started watering before a handkerchief was pressed into his hand.

Harry had crossed the desk and stood now in front of Eggsy. “I'm very sorry for your loss.”

Eggsy crumpled the fabric in his hand and blinked back the tears. “Yeah, well, shit happens, eh?”

Before Eggsy could apologize for swearing, Harry nodded and said, “Yes it fucking does.”

The swear word said so matter of factly in such a posh accent made Eggsy hot under his polo's collar.

“Eggsy, I know Amelia told you the story of your medal and how I failed my team.” Harry's eyes got a haunted look in them. “But there's slightly more to it. As far as she knows, I'm the only one who returned alive from a botched mission. That is untrue. Your father also survived the attack that killed the rest of our squad. We called in backup, which took the form of Merlin and Roxy's father, James.”

Eggsy's mouth dropped open. Merlin had been special ops? The man wore jumpers for fuck's sake. And did Roxy know about her dad being special ops? Is that why she had enlisted?

Harry continued the story. “The four of us captured the traitor whose betrayal left the rest of the team dead. We tried to interrogate him, but he'd hidden a grenade on his person and I fucking missed it. Your father didn't though. He leapt onto the grenade and saved the lives of every man in that room, at the cost of himself.”  
It wasn't until a gentle hand guided the handkerchief to his streaming eyes, that Eggsy realised he was crying.

“Your father was a very brave man. I had Merlin pull your records after you made your phone call”

Oh fuck, Eggsy frowned. He's knows exactly what kind of fuck up I've been.

Harry shook his head as if he could read Eggsy's mind. “After the life you've led, I think he'd be proud about your decision to enlist and try to do some good with a very rotten hand dealt to you. I'm just sorry your efforts were thwarted by tragedy. Are you sure-”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy's words were shaky but sure. “I want to stay here. It's the safest I've felt in years and I really like everyone,” except Charlie, he added in his head. “Maybe in time, I'll want something else, but I just really want to stay.”

Harry nodded this time. “You may stay as long as you like and please, consider this your home now. Big and drafty as it can be.” Another slight smile that made Eggsy's stomach flip. “After all, once you've found a suitable spot, you'll have a garden to attend to. I'm sure Amelia will be glad at the prospect of fresh produce. She might even perform a miracle and find a way to cook spinach that I would be willing to consume.”

Eggsy laughed. “Just for that, I'm planting extra.”

Groaning theatrically, Harry rolled his eyes as if in pain.

The dinner bell interrupted them.

Eggsy jumped up. “I must go change for dinner,” he drawled in his best posh accent. “You'll be there, yeah?”

Harry averted his eyes. “No, Eggsy. Not tonight. I've some work to attend to.”

“Shit, did I distract you from work?” Eggsy bit his lip.

Looking back at him with a near imperceptible glance to Eggsy's mouth, Harry said, “Yes and I was utterly glad for it. I find paperwork the most tedious bore.”

Eggsy smiled. “If it's no trouble, I could come back tomorrow and distract you again.” He thought of the garden and all the planning he and Roxy would be able to do now that Eggsy could purchase gardening supplies without raising eyebrows. “Maybe at tea time?”

“I'd like that very much,” Harry said with a smile. “I'll see you at four o'clock then.”

“It's a date,” Eggsy said brightly just as Merlin knocked to collect him.

It wasn't until he was tying his tie with clumsy fingers that Eggsy realised what he'd said. Dropping his forehead to the corner of the freestanding mirror, Eggsy groaned. “Get it the fuck together, Unwin, you twat. This is the worst idea you've ever had and you've had some shit ideas.”

“What's the worst idea?” Gazelle asked as she seemingly materialized behind him.

Eggsy fell over his own feet and only managed to avoid falling flat on his face by virtue of his gymnastic background. He straightened from the flip he'd performed and frowned. 

“What is it with people just popping up out of nowhere in this fucking house?”

“Secret passages,” Gazelle said. “But I came in through your door after knocking twice. What's got you so distracted, Eggsy?”

“No one,” Eggsy said, then saw the flash of mischief in Gazelle's eyes. “I mean, nothing.” He abandoned the tie, since it wasn't like Harry would be there anyway, and offered his elbow to Gazelle. “Can I escort you to the dining hall, miss?”

Gazelle took the offered arm. “Your accent needs work.”


	8. Tea Time And Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No actual spies, sorry. Also, Roxy is best bro and has the weirdest talent. Also, I have truly never ever been more pleased by a line than appropriating the Nick Fury "stupid ass decision" bit for Valentine.

Soon enough Harry and Eggsy were having tea together every day, even though it did mean abandoning the garden a little earlier. Like his friendship with (and soul-engulfing crush on) Harry, the garden was flourishing.

The produce planted a month ago was starting to sprout in earnest and Amelia was already researching and testing new recipes for the eventual bounty. She had provided a list of which vegetables she wanted most, including the extra spinach Eggsy had jokingly promised to plant. The flowers that had already been planted were thriving, having lain in wait for someone to tend them again.

Roxy was a whiz at plant identification and Eggsy played eager pupil as they worked out the best ways to care for the motley collection of flowers. The spring rains provided most of the watering and collected in the fountain that had taken Eggsy the better part of a day to clean and get working again.

“May I ask something?” Roxy said one day as she filled a watering can Eggsy had purchased with his (frankly, so generous it was ludicrous) allowance. “What do you talk about for hours every day? You and Lord Hart?”

Charlie was forever asking the same thing. But where he was sneering and snide, Roxy was genuinely curious how two such seemingly disparate people never ran out of things to say to each other.

“Anything,” Eggsy smiled. “Everything.”

It was true. Harry asked Eggsy's opinion on everything from world events (Eggsy had begged Gazelle to bring him a newspaper with the breakfast tray each morning, so he'd be informed enough to have opinions to share) to which brand of tea was best (you would pry Builder's from Eggsy's cold, dead hands and the day after he first mentioned that, it was the only brand they ever drank together).

It was astonishing to Eggsy how kind and warm a presence Harry had. Between the stories of constant absences and the sad history everyone at the manor had a share of, Eggsy had expected Lord Hart to be moody and withdrawn. But, with Eggsy, he laughed and swore and made inappropriate jokes.

Eggsy was always a little sad when the dinner bell would ring and he'd have to leave. Every day, he asked Harry to show.

Every day, he received a gentle, but firm, “Not today.”

“Roxy, can I ask you something?” Eggsy said, shaking from his reverie about Harry.

The young woman wiped her hands on her trousers. “We seem to be taking it in turns. Go on.”

“Harry- Lord Hart,” Eggsy corrected himself hastily, but not before Roxy had noticed the slip, “is he-? Has he ever-? Does he-?”

“I'll answer if I can, but I need a question first.”

“Does he fancy blokes?” Eggsy asked in a rush.

Roxy stared at Eggsy a moment before her eyes softened to something between fondness and pity. “Oh, Eggsy. Already? It's only been just over a month.”

Eggsy frowned. “Already what? What are you on about, Rox?”

“I knew you fancied him,” she said, gracefully not drawing attention to Eggsy's instantaneous blush. “I just didn't know you were in love with him already, though.”

Deciding to surrender the pretense, Eggsy dropped his head into his hands. “It's mad, innit? Like he'd every fancy me, even if he does shag blokes. Fuck, Rox, what am I gonna do?”

Eggsy's lovelorn state was put on hold by the sound of a ladder being knocked against the stone wall outside.

Both Roxy and Eggsy scrambled to their feet as Valentine's head popped over the ivy. “Hey! What the fuck are you kids doing in here?”

Roxy's reply of “What are you doing spying on us?” was more eloquent than Eggsy's drawn-out “Fuuuuuuuck!”

Valentine seemed about to start a lecture when he noticed the state of the garden. “Wait, did you kids do all this?”

Eggsy squared his shoulders. “Yeah. Har- Lord Hart said I could have my own garden, wherever I could find unwanted space. This was unwanted, by everybody but us,” he nodded at Roxy.

“Well damn,” Valentine leaned against the wall. “I always did my best to keep the place up but since the arthritis kicked in five years ago, I'm only up to one trip over the wall in a year. It's looking good, Kingsman kid.”

Roxy recovered from surprise first. “I thought these roses had been pruned too recently.”

Valentine nodded. “I'm the gardener. If it's a garden, it's in my jurisdiction. Now, I recognize Lord Hart made a decision to wall this garden up, but given that it was a stupid ass decision, I long ago elected to ignore it. Besides, it has the funkiest assortment of flora.”

“Come in,” Eggsy invited before he could second guess the choice. “Door's on that side,” he pointed. “I'll come open the door since you can't get over the ladder easy anymore.” And he rushed off to do just that.

Valentine was waiting, smiling as he followed Eggsy through the thick ivy. “Shit, it's like being in a jungle.” He made a quiet round of the garden once inside, nodding at the fountain. “Got that working again?”

Eggsy shrugged. “Was just a blocked pipe. Cleared out the dead mouse and it worked a treat.”

“Never could stand to touch that,” Valentine shuddered. “Squeamish stomach. One little drop of blood and that's me done. I have to get Gazelle to pick up the field mice and hedgehogs after I mow the grass.”

Roxy pursed her lips and made an angry growl in her throat.

“Before. Before I mow the grass,” Valentine faked a placating smile.

“That's how we met actually, Gazelle and I,” Roxy's anger evaporated as she spoke about her girlfriend. “She found a hedgehog that was injured and its mate led me there so I could nurse it back to health. We've been together ever since,” she gave a dreamy sigh, “we've even the godmothers of the litter that the hedgehog couple had soon after.”

Valentine leaned towards Eggsy. “Does that shit still baffle you? Cause I've known her for almost her whole life and it baffles the fuck outta me, man.”

“I've seen her feed a fawn in her lap with a baby bottle while rabbits leaned on her knees,” Eggsy confided. “I've well washed my hands of understanding any of it.”

Roxy shook herself from thoughts of her beloved. “Valentine, it's obvious you can keep a secret, if you've been lowkey tending to the garden for years now. You must know it's of the utmost importance that no one know we come here. I think we both know that when Lord Hart is truly angered by something, he takes no prisoners. Remember those football hooligans who got too rowdy in the pub as they passed through the village? You don't want to lose your job, I don't want to lose my wandering privileges and Eggsy doesn't want to lose Lord Hart's good favour. So you're one of our conspiracy now. You'll be quiet.”

Jeez, Rox, Eggsy thought. Sound more like a fucking spy flick, would ya?

“On my life,” Valentine swore. “Cross my heart,” he said as he drew an x over the left side of his chest.

Eggsy frowned at the solemnity. Surely Harry wouldn't actually fire Valentine or banish Roxy just for sneaking into a garden. It had been Eggsy's idea first, after all. If this whole thing turns into a shit show, Eggsy should be the only one getting punished for it and if he had the slightest say, he would be the only one who did. “Wait,” he said. “What did Ha- Lord Hart do to those blokes?”

Roxy and Valentine exchanged a look and took it in turns to tell him.

“Bloody hell,” Eggsy said when they'd finished. “All of them, just like that? With an umbrella?”

“Once a Marine, always a Marine,” Roxy said.

Eggsy leaned in so only Roxy could hear him. “Is it weird if I find the idea of Harry beating down a pub of bastards really fucking hot?”

Roxy recoiled and then shook her head. “You are totally hopeless, Eggsy. Truly.”

Eggsy grinned. “I try my best.”


	9. When It All Goes South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, it hurt more to write this than it will to read it. Time for the fight...

It took another few months for the shit to hit the fan. Eggsy, in a fit of wild optimism buoyed by having his friends and his garden, thought that he could keep the secret forever.  
They were in the garden, Roxy and Valentine had blindfolded Eggsy and all were laughing in the world's most uncoordinated game of blind man's bluff.

Eggsy was still laughing when the other two went silent. “Rox? Valentine? Guys? If you lot abandoned me, swear down I will-”

“Eggsy.”

It was Harry's voice.

In his happiest dreams (which were starting to be more numerous than the nightmares of fire and a baby screaming), he'd imagine that Harry would find them like this in the garden. Harry would look around in wonder at what had been done to transform the abandoned little plot of land and praise Eggsy's care and devotion to something Harry had written off as unneeded. He'd smile that beaming grin and the gentle hand on Eggsy's shoulder would run through his hair as Harry pulled him close and...

The young man whipped off the blindfold and immediately wished he hadn't.

Harry was looking around, all right, but with rage simmering in his eyes. Eggsy knew he should look for Roxy and Valentine, hope they'd hidden from sight, beg for leniency for both of them if they hadn't, but he couldn't take his eyes from Harry.

He'd heard a couple stories, sure, from Valentine and Roxy and a few from Harry himself, in those precious tea time hours, about Harry's intolerance for disloyalty and the holy hell he could rain down upon his enemies. Eggsy had truly never thought Harry would look at him like he was now, like Eggsy had betrayed him.

“Harry-”

“You were told to never come here. After everything you've been given, all that's been done for you, it was one simple request and you disobeyed,” Harry's voice hadn't sounded so devoid of warmth since that first day when he recounted the loss of his team.

Eggsy was ashamed, but this was his garden now. Harry had even given it to him through a loophole in wording. Eggsy tended it, he loved it, he wasn't going to lose it without the fight of his fucking life. “Who the fuck locks up a garden, you fucking freak?”

Harry's eyes flashed with anger. “I locked up this garden and I don't need to justify my reasons to a boy like you.”

“Like me, eh?” Eggsy felt his anger reach a boiling point. “Just what does that mean? Some light-fingered pleb from the estates? Or another one of those kids you keep here because your fuck-ups cost them their family?”

Like a wet towel thrown over a kitchen fire, Harry seemed to deflate into the kind of deep sadness that never truly left him. “Can't you see that everything I've done has been about trying to repay their sacrifices? Repaying your father?”

Eggsy's fight left him. Harry wasn't the enemy here; he was a man so bent by grief he ought to have developed a hunchback by now. And Eggsy had thrown that in his face the same way Harry had thrown Eggsy's past at him.

Harry's mobile went off. It had happened a few times during their tea sessions, but Harry had always ignored it. This time, he answered. “Yes, yes, I'm on my way.” He turned to face Eggsy again.

“Harry, I'm so sorry,” Eggsy began.

“You should be,” Harry said and heaved a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his very soul. “I'll sort this out when I get back.” With nothing further said, he left the garden.

Eggsy stood, silently trembling for a moment as a realisation hit him. Harry was leaving on one of his trips; he'd sought Eggsy out so he could say goodbye because he didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Eggsy's eyes landed on the flowers they'd all been meaning to water before they got distracted playing like a group of children. With a sigh, he found the watering can and began to do what had brought him joy since the first few days at Kingsman: tend his garden.

As he worked, Eggsy couldn't help replaying his and Harry's fight over and over and over again. The things they'd said, the way they'd known exactly how to hurt the other the most.

Roxy's hand on his shoulder was the catalyst that brought him out of the swirling eddy of dark thoughts about how he'd fucked up everything. “Eggsy? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy scrubbed a hand over his face. “What about you? And Valentine? Harry didn't see ya, yeah?”

“No,” Roxy said. “He didn't see us, but he's not an idiot. You said our names and he must have heard our voices.”

“I won't let him banish you,” Eggsy said. “Either of you. I started this whole mess; if anyone's leaving, it's me. Swear down, Roxy, I won't tell him you were with me”

Roxy shook her head. “As he said, it'll be dealt with when he returns from his trip. Until then, go see Merlin. He always tracks Harry's flights. Even created his own program.” Harry now, no more Lord Hart business. “I say the best thing you can do is call when he lands. The lingering anger will have dissipated and I'm sure he'll want to apologise as well. His trips can last months; you don't want to be on the outs with each other that long.”

Eggsy nodded and looked over the garden, in case it was the last time he'd ever see it. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to Harry, because if they spoke Harry might kick him out. Yet another part of Eggsy, though, wanted Harry's voice in his ear, reassuring him that this was Eggsy's home forever, as Harry often had during their happier moments.

As he left, Eggsy bent down to press his cheek to the purple hyacinths that had become his favourite. “I'll be back,” he promised the blooms.

Merlin was waiting at the doors to the manor. He didn't look disappointed, but sympathetic. “I've set up Harry's laptop in his office with the flight tracker,” he said, having obviously been alerted by Roxy as to what had happened.

On heavy legs, Eggsy entered the office where just the day before he and Harry had laughed over some of Harry's school day antics while Eggsy shared some of his own.

He watched the little private airplane fly over the map and planned what to say when he called Harry. Maybe if Harry could explain why he'd locked up a garden, of all things, Eggsy would be able to explain that it was better to let living things grow, instead of hiding them away. Maybe he could give Harry a tour of the garden, show the man the vegetables that would soon be provided to the kitchen, the way that the random assortment of flowers were thriving. Maybe if Harry knew how much the garden meant to Eggsy, maybe they both could stay.

Eggsy's attention was caught as the screen went red, as if someone had thrown a bucket of blood at it. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he tried to fix the screen's colour, but the problem wasn't the computer.

It was the plane. PLANE DOWN, the text read in giant letters. PLANE DOWN, flashed again. PILOT AND PASSENGER REPORTED DEAD.

“Nooooo,” Eggsy screamed. He slammed the laptop shut and threw himself back in Harry's chair, feeling tears build in his eyes. It had to be a mistake. A glitch. A prank, maybe even.

He ran from the room to Merlin's office, only to find the bald man with his head in his hands.

“Merlin,” he said, voice choked.

The man looked up. “Eggsy” he said, sorrow painting the two syllables.

“It's a mistake,” Eggsy said. “The program is faulty. Please, Merlin, please tell me it's a mistake.”

“Eggsy,” Merlin said again, rising from his seat.

The young man stumbled out of the office, down to the dining room. He threw open the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey that he didn't drink. “No,” he whispered to the tumbler. “Please god, no. Not him. You've taken everyone from me, but not him.”

Abandoning the alcohol, Eggsy ran. Running felt good, always had. Whether it was laps during basic or parkouring around the rooftops of the estate, Eggsy had always relished the calming effects of letting his body take over and quieting his mind.

But it wouldn't be quiet, still screaming Harry's name as Eggsy found himself rounding the path to the secret garden. He collapsed against the broken ivy that now signaled where the door was and fumbled his way inside. No one had locked it after the events of a few hours ago. Oh Jesus, was it only a few hours ago that Eggsy had yelled at and been yelled at by Harry? They'd said such horrible things to each other and now it was the last things they would ever say.

“No,” Eggsy whimpered. He fell to his knees besides the statue that stood near the door. He'd always figured it for a saint or such. “Please,” he begged the statue, the garden, anyone or anything that might be listening. “Harry can't be dead. He just can't be. I fucked up and I have to make this right with him. God, I... I love him. I love Harry so fucking much and he can't die not knowing that. Thinking that I didn't care. Please, whoever, whatever you are. Let him come home to me. I need him. I love him. Please,” Eggsy dissolved into wordless sobs.

Everything was going so well. Eggsy's life was perfect in a way it hadn't been since the tall man that he now knew was Harry had told Eggsy's mum that her husband wasn't coming home. How could it have gone so wrong, so fucking quickly?


	10. As He Willed It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath. Wills are read, punches are thrown and lives are changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to post this now because I couldn't leave ya'll with that last chapter, all hopeless like. Swear down, it's gonna get better.

Roxy had once again found Eggsy in the garden and all but tossed him over her shoulder to bring him back to Kingsman Manor.

Merlin took over from there, as Gazelle ran to her partner's arms for comfort.

Eggsy was now sat at the dining room table, where his untouched whiskey had been cleared away and replaced by a plate of food. “Not hungry, bruv,” he said, voice rough from screaming and crying.

“Try to eat something, lad,” Merlin said, voice kinder than it had ever been before. “The solicitor will be calling in the morning and you'll need your strength for that.”

Charlie walked in then, smirk dimmed, but still in place. “Well, Eggy. If I were you, I'd go pack now and save the trouble in the morning.”

Eggsy bristled. “What do ya mean by that?”

“Just as soon as Lord Hart is confirmed dead and I am Lord of this manor, you are going to be out on your arse,” Charlie sneered. “Have to go back to London, since there's not much call for rent boys around here. Lord Hart would probably have been your only customer anyway.”

Punching Charlie in the face felt as good as Eggsy always thought it would. Better still, when the punch knocked the other young man unconscious.

Merlin looked down at the young man on the floor, then at Eggsy. “I won't say he didn't deserve that. But Eggsy, why did you disobey the one thing we asked of you? Why did you go find the locked door?”

Eggsy sighed. “I don't know. I was curious at first, wanted to see what was so terrible that it needed to be locked up? Then when I found the garden... it had so much potential. Harry,” he choked on the name, “Harry always told me about all the potential I had. I think that's what I saw in that weedy, little garden. Potential. I thought if someone just gave it some care, yeah, that it would be beautiful.”

There was a small smile on Merlin's face. “He should have let you explain that. Lord Hart does love his metaphors.” Merlin frowned, “Loved.”

Another sob caught in Eggsy's throat at the past tense.

Merlin laid a hand on his shoulder. “Go on, get some rest. I'll have Amelia make your favourites for breakfast. Like I said, you'll need your strength.”

Morning came at once too slow and too fast for Eggsy's liking. He stared at the ceiling for most of the night and when he did doze off, it was to the nightmares of fire. Only this time, it was Harry screaming as he burned and Eggsy woke with tears streaming from his eyes, calling Harry's name.

The solicitor that showed up after breakfast was almost exactly what Eggsy had thought Lord Hart would look like before he met Harry. Chester King was old and had almost the same sneer when he laid eyes on Eggsy for the first time as Charlie did.

Charlie was still nursing a black eye and the kind of hatred that turns people into villains.

Merlin sat at Eggsy's side and Gazelle stood in the corner, more moral support than anything else, though she did fetch coffee for everyone.

Chester took a folder from his briefcase. “Now, Lord Hart came into my office a few days ago in order to rewrite his last will and testament.”

Eggsy sat up straighter. He'd known Harry had taken a day trip to London; the man had returned with a London Eye snowglobe for Eggsy and a bag full of Eggsy's favourite Chinese takeaway. It was the closest they'd ever had to having dinner together.

“However,” and one would almost think Chester looked sorry if not for the rather cruel gleam in his eye, “I'm afraid the paperwork just wasn't filled out quite properly, so the revisions aren't admissible. Therefore, according to the last properly filed papers, Charles Hesketh is to inherit Kingsman Manor and all its lands, on the provision that he continue the employment of those already working there for a period of one year. After that, of course, he'll decide who stays and who goes.” He looked at Eggsy. “I'm afraid it makes no mention of you, Mr. Unwin. Your future is in Mr. Hesketh's hands.”

Merlin coughed, a small almost inaudible noise, but in the silence caused by the revelation, it made all eyes turn to him. “I'm afraid that's incorrect, Mr. King,” he said. He held his omnipresent tablet up. “Lord Hart's will may have been improperly handled in your office, but he also filed a copy with the local solicitor here, as he has done with all his personal papers since he became lord of the manor. You see, Lord Hart always loved to support local business and found it a more... reliable place.” Merlin's smile was a thing a shark would have been proud of. “So you see, since that paperwork is the most recent, that is the last will and testament that will hold up. And it says that the Manor goes to Eg- Mr. Unwin, with a substantial sum going to Mr. Hesketh, but only on the provision that he returns to his Cambridge studies and to quote Lord Hart 'makes something of his fool self'. It also provides for the continued employment of everyone working at the manor and their pensions, along with a rather generous sum explicitly set aside for the wedding of Ms. Gazelle here and Roxanne Morton.”

Gazelle gasped.

“Apparently, Mr. Unwin mentioned to Lord Hart that a little bird told him Gazelle might be planning a proposal soon. Lord Hart insisted that the wedding be hosted on the grounds at his expense since it was, again in his words, 'the scene of the crime'.”

Eggsy stood and hugged Gazelle, both of them leaning on each other so as not to fall as their futures were assured.

Merlin smiled beatifically at the indignity of Charlie and the thwarted greed of Chester King.

Eggsy, being less than beatific, sneered at the both of them. “Well gentlemen,” he said in the posh accent he'd been picking up from Harry, “I think the time has come to tell you both to get the fuck out of my house.”

The bald man handed Charlie a check. “This can only be used to pay for your next term at Cambridge. Should I find out, and I would find out, it has been used for anything else, well,” Merlin shrugged, “I'm afraid that would nullify the conditions of your allowance and leave you, what was that term you used with Eggsy? Out on your arse.”

Charlie shouted, “How dare you,” at Eggsy as he advanced on the other young man.

Eggsy moved Gazelle behind him protectively and squared off against Charlie. “I haven't done anything.”

“You little chav. You really think this will hold up in court? Classic gold-digger story. My god, if I hadn't gotten the message to Lord Hart about your stupid little garden, you'd probably have killed him yourself for the money.”

Then Eggsy realized who'd exposed the secret that had set everything in motion.

It was Charlie, of course. He was small-minded and a mind like that can only take so much envy before it explodes into petulant action. He'd followed Eggsy one day and watched them all slip into the garden. Valentine, being a tall man, had left a rather obvious impression in the ivy as he ducked through and Charlie held on to the knowledge until he could get an anonymous message sent to Lord Hart about strange goings on in the forbidden area.

Punching Charlie again felt like the best kind of revenge, so Eggsy did it twice in succession.

“Don't you dare,” Eggsy said to the boy clutching his broken nose with one hand and his jaw with the other, “think that just because your mind is full of nothing but cash, that mine's the same. I... I... I cared about Harry more than I've ever cared about anyone and I would have taken a bullet for him, if I could've. So take your money and never darken my doorstep again, you hear me? I still know people in London and could make your death look like a spoiled rich boy drug OD, easy like. Classic story, eh?.”

Charlie spit at Eggsy's feet, but left.

Gazelle wrapped her arms around Eggsy, pressing her face into his shoulder. “He'd be so proud of you. I just know he would be.”

Merlin nodded as he stood from the table. “That he would. Harry was right about you. You're just as much a gentleman as he ever was.” Merlin smiled a little. “Right down to the punching. Harry would be very proud of you, Eggsy.”

Eggsy took the words and tried to find comfort in them. He had wanted Harry to be proud of him, of course. But he wanted Harry to say the words himself.


	11. Resurrection Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because since day one of being a Hartwin shipper, I have believed Harry Lives. And also Harry Loves Eggsy. We get to both those things in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeezy Chrizzy, ya'll. Have I ever written anything where Harry died and that was it? I was saving this chapter (to go with it's smutty follow-up), but I'll post it now since a lot of you are being vocal about how much you did not like Harry spending time presumed dead. Harry lives, as always. Just means you'll have to wait a bit for the next few chapters (as they aren't written yet).

With his new status as Lord of Kingsman Manor, Eggsy's first act was to have his garden always open. Gazelle, Amelia, and even Merlin would come lend a hand or just wander around, looking at how the garden was thriving.

About a fortnight after the reading of the will, Eggsy was in the garden with Amelia and Roxy when they heard a scream.

It was Gazelle.

Roxy was off like she's been shot from a machine gun, with Eggsy and Amelia close behind.

Gazelle was standing with her hands clapped over her mouth and a tray filled with lemonade at her feet. She was staring into the open French doors that led to the dining room like she'd seen a ghost.

Roxy vaulted the railing and pulled her girlfriend into her arms. “Are you all right, love? Are you hurt? What's happened?”

“I'm afraid that's my fault,” said a voice from inside the house.

Harry stepped outside and Eggsy felt all the breath leave his body like it had the day they'd met.

“I asked Merlin to keep my return a surprise; my presence was meant to be revealed at tea. I didn't mean to scare you, Ms. Gazelle. Please accept my most sincere apologies. Are you all right now?”

“Yes, Lord Hart.” Gazelle nodded, but clutched Roxy closer.

Eggsy could hear Amelia whispering “Oh my god” repeatedly behind him, but he couldn't look anywhere but at Harry. How many times had he dreamed of Harry returning to him and now here he was, impeccable suit and a soft smile. “Are you really here?” was all Eggsy could force past his tight throat.

Harry turned slowly to Eggsy. “I am, dear boy. I am.”

“How?”

“When the pilot realized the plane had been tampered with, he wrestled me into a parachute,” Harry explained. “He took the other and we jumped. He landed safely, but I hadn't jumped from a plane in years. I sustained a head injury.” He lifted the hair that had been styled to hide his left temple, where a thin scar stretched into the hair line.

Eggsy didn't resist his urge to reach up ad touch the scar. When he did, Harry shivered. “Sorry,” Eggsy said, withdrawing his hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Harry shook his head and let his hair fall back into place. “The exact opposite, Eggsy.”

“Hold on,” Roxy pursed her lips,” the plane had been tampered with?”

Harry's face darkened. “After I filed the new will with Chester King, he must have cooked up the scheme. He'd been a mentor of sorts to Charlie, something I encouraged in the hopes that Charlie might decide to follow in Chester's footsteps and become a lawyer. When Chester realized I planned to leave nearly everything to Eggsy, he knew he had to get rid of me while he could still claim a clerical error to invalidate the will.”

“Is he in jail?” Gazelle asked, looking like she was about to go drag him there herself if he wasn't.

“Dead,” Harry replied.

“Jesus, Harry,” Eggsy hissed. “You fuckin' killed him? He was a right bastard, but it's a bit much, innit?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I merely went to his office to correct the paperwork and hand him over to the police. I did not intentionally give Chester the fatal heart attack. He really was quite old, you see.”

“What about Charlie?” Amelia asked, wiping her tears on her ever-present apron.

“He was unaware of the full extent of Chester's plot,” Harry said. “He's re-enrolled at Cambridge and will hopefully take this as a wake-up call to continue his life being less self-centered.”

“Two weeks,” Eggsy said as his brain struggled to take in all this new information. “You've been gone two weeks, Harry.”

The man winced. “I spent a good eight of those days unconscious as a result of my head trauma. Andrew, the pilot, felt it was best for him to get me to hospital and wait for me to wake up before deciding whom could be trusted to be contacted.” Deliberately averting his eyes from Eggsy, Harry continued. “When I'd been told how much time had passed, I knew Eggsy would have come into his inheritance. A call to Merlin confirmed this. It also involved some lovely nuns learning some very vulgar language in at least three different tongues as he berated me. He arranged our transport home and begrudgingly kept his silence.”

“Why didn't you want anyone told?” Roxy said, a measure of anger creeping into her voice. “Why let Eg- all of us mourn you if we didn't need to?”

Harry shrugged. “I did not think I'd be the mourned-for type.”

“Bollocks,” Amelia said and Eggsy was finally torn from studying Harry to stare at the quiet woman in shock. “With all due respect sir, that is absolute and total bollocks. If you think anyone, any single one of us, hold you in blame about the past, you are completely mad. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say it was an accident, a devastating one to be sure, but an accident nonetheless. You are human, not omniscient. We all forgave you ages ago, Charlie as well. You're the only person who thinks you deserve punishment for that. You gave us all jobs, a new life,” she nodded at Eggsy, “a chance at happiness. We love you, whether we see you as more than a passing figure or not.”

For a long moment nothing happened, then Amelia threw herself forward into Harry's arms and clung to him tightly. Gazelle let go of Roxy with one arm and they attached themselves to his left side.

Harry looked bewildered, but held the women as tightly as he could as he stared at Eggsy.

“Me too,” Eggsy mouthed and smiled at Harry.

“Now,” Amelia said, as she peeled herself away, “I think this calls for my triple layer cake. I don't have a frame of reference, sir, but I'm sure your convalescence resulted in some weight loss. I'll have that fixed right up,” she beamed.

“I'm taking Gazelle home,” Roxy said, bowing her head slightly but keeping her words as a statement.

Harry nodded. “Of course. Do come back for dinner tonight, though. Bring your fathers; it's been ages since I've seen them.”

Once the women had left, Eggsy was faced with Harry. They'd had such an easy banter between them before... before everything that had happened. With Harry returned, things would go back to how they'd been before; Eggsy nothing more than an unofficial ward. Would the garden be shut up again?

“Eggsy?” Harry looked concerned, as if it weren't the first time he'd called the name.

“I'm... here,” Eggsy said as he tried to calm his racing thoughts.

“First and foremost, I have to apologise,” Harry laid a hand on Eggsy's shoulder. “I was unfeeling and cruel. I should never have said those things to you. I'm sorry.”

“Me too,” Eggsy responded. “I really am so sorry, Harry. It's just... I love that garden. It gave me a purpose and a focus when I didn't have either. I couldn't understand why you would just leave it to rot?”

Harry looked uncomfortable. “I will tell you the entire story, if you like. Soon, but I must,” he fidgeted with his jacket cuffs, “I must tell you something. All this has been a wake-up call for me as well. I've spent too long trying to make up for my past mistakes. Miss Amelia was right. I've barely given any thought to the present and none at all to the future. Until you came along, with your good heart and horrendous shoes.”

The laugh was startled from Eggsy's mouth. “Hey, I like those shoes, mate.”

Harry tapped his fingers together. “I found myself looking forward to tea time everyday. Seeking out conversation topics simply because I wanted to know what you thought. I enjoyed your wit and your brilliance and your beautiful smile,” Harry ducked his head slightly. “Your beautiful everything, really.”

Eggsy's pulse sped up at what it sounded like Harry was confessing.

“You see, quite without knowing exactly when,” Harry lifted his head to make eye contact with Eggsy, “I found myself falling in love with you. I love you, Eggsy, most desperately, most ardently. Now, of course I don't expect-”

“I love you too,” Eggsy said, heart so light he felt it might fly from his throat.

“-and we can go on as-” the words seemed to have finally made it through Harry's monologue. “You do?”

Eggsy laughed, so happy it was either that or crying. And he'd cried enough lately. “I love you so much, Harry. When I thought I'd lost you-”

“-You haven't,” Harry said, taking the few steps to bring him close to Eggsy. “I'm here, my love.”

Smiling, Eggsy wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, relishing the way Harry's instantly encircled his waist. “Are you gonna fuckin' keep soliloquizin' or are you gonna kiss me?”

With a growl, Harry kissed Eggsy like it wasn't their first, like he wanted to devour the other man, body and soul.

Eggsy kinda loved the idea. His hands divested Harry of the suit jacket and Eggsy was halfway through the shirt buttons when Harry pulled back, his own hands having rucked up Eggsy's polo.

“Wait,” Harry leaned away when Eggsy went in for another kiss. “Wait, darling.”

“I feel like we've waited long enough,” Eggsy said, undoing another button. “I have been wanting you to fuck me on this dining table since the first dinner after I met you.” He winked.

Harry stared as if caught up imagining that very scenario. “Bed,” he croaked out. “The first time I have you, I want you on a bed, where I can worship you properly.” His eyes glittered. “Though we will revisit this table idea of yours at a later date.”

Eggsy tossed back his head and laughed. “A bed, huh? All right, which way to your bed?”

“Our bed,” Harry said as he pressed kisses along Eggsy's jawline. “Going forward, I'd like it to be our bed.”

“Mmm,” Eggsy moaned at Harry's ministrations. “Our bed. It's gonna be gigantic and posh, innit?”


	12. Worship in the Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut. You've been warned... or enticed. ;) Rating has gone up accordingly.

It was gigantic and posh.

“Oh yes,” Eggsy cooed, eyeing the bed. Plenty large enough for two men to have athletic sex on, with four posts at the corners that just begged for bondage. If Harry was non-vanilla in any way, Eggsy could see this bed getting enough action to make a porn set proud. “Very, very nice.” He slipped his polo over his head and faced Harry.

Now in the privacy of his -their- room, Harry was like a stalking jungle cat. Just out of arm's reach, he circled Eggsy to look his fill now that he knew looking was allowed, even welcomed.

“Beautiful,” he nodded at Eggsy's shoulders and back. “Delicious,” Harry's eyes traveled the younger man's thighs to his arse, which was pronounced, “Exquisite.”

“Looking all you gonna do?” Eggsy challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Harry's eyes haven't looked up from all the precious, bared skin. “You'll have to forgive me, my darling. I've been wanting this for so long, there's quite a lengthy list of things I want done to and by you. I'm merely taking a moment to narrow it down to what is feasible in the next few hours.”

Eggsy's eyes flashed. “Oh yeah? Wanna compare lists? 'Cause trust me, I wanna do things to you that you probably ain't never heard of, luv.” He winked.

Harry huffed a laugh and moved up against Eggsy's back like a shot, grabbing the shorter man's arms in a firm, but not painful hold. “Eggsy, my love, I haven't only heard of any filthy thing you could possibly suggest, I quite probably invented a few of them.”

Usually Eggsy hated to be grabbed; too reminded by years under his stepdad's thumb, or more accurately fist. But between Harry's heart beating wildly against Eggsy and the heated words breathed into his ear, Eggsy felt nothing but safe and wanted.

Not to mentioned very, very turned the fuck on.

Eggsy laid his head back against Harry's shoulder and nipped at his neck before nuzzling into it. “Show me what you got, Harry.”

Giving Harry a challenge was very clearly the right move. Between one breath and the next, Harry had Eggsy with his back to the bedroom wall and his legs around Harry's trim waist.

“Jesus,” Eggsy gasped.

“I'll thank you to only call out my name, please,” Harry smirked and that was fucking it.

In this position, Eggsy couldn't rely on his other talents, so he bit his lip, drawing Harry's attention to his mouth as Eggsy wound his arms around the other man's shoulders. “Want you to fuck me,” Eggsy whispered like it was a secret. “I want you,” he leaned in to press tiny kisses along Harry's jaw, “to lay me on that bed,” he sucked at the space behind Harry's ear and got a whimper for his trouble. “Want you to pound me into our,” Eggsy stressed the word and bit Harry's earlobe, earning a shudder, “mattress. Want your hands, your tongue, your teeth all over me. So when we finally leave the room, everyone in the whole fucking county will know we was fucking like champs.” For the final touch to his seduction, Eggsy placed his lips against Harry's ear. “Know that I'm yours.”

The bet Eggsy had mentally placed on Harry's possessive streak paid off. Harry kissed him like he was never going to have the chance again, owning Eggsy's mouth as if he had the sole rights to it.

Which Eggsy readily granted.

It could have been minutes or an hour later when Harry laid Eggsy on the bed and followed his body down.

Eggsy moaned his appreciation of Harry's weight on top of him.

“Keep doing that,” Harry said. “I want to hear every single sound you make when you're fucked. I've been wondering if you'll gasp or hiss when I slide my cock into you. Do you pant or whimper when your nipples are played with?” He ran a blunt thumbnail around Eggsy's nipple, swallowing the sounds the younger man made into a hard kiss. “Will you grunt when you come or can I make you scream?”

The words were filthy, but Harry's hands caressed Eggsy's body with reverential worship. Peeling Eggsy's loose jeans and pants off in a series of quick tugs, Harry pulled back to look at his lover. “Perfect,” he declared.

Eggsy couldn't help the colour rising to his cheeks, but he put on a cocky smirk anyway. “Gonna let me return the compliments? Get your kit off, Harry,” he demanded, making grabby hands towards Harry's body. “Been imagining your body for months. Wanna see how right I got it.”

Harry stripped his clothes off with no apparent care for the expense of them and returned to the space between Eggsy's spread thighs as if he had always belonged there. “Well?”

Harry was the fucking perfect one, Eggsy thought. Even kneeling, his legs were obviously long, his shoulders broad and Eggsy was already obsessed with Harry's pecs. Apparently, the gym saw as much of Harry as it did of Eggsy. His eyes trailed to where Harry's cock jutted between his legs, long and so thick that Eggsy's hole gave a greedy, anticipatory clench.

“Gorgeous,” Eggsy said, forcing his eyes back to Harry's. “The most gorgeous,” he sat up to put his mouth on Harry's chest, kissing down to a nipple and further to trace the shape of Harry's pec with his tongue.

Meanwhile, Harry reached down to find Eggsy's cock and began to stroke, glide made easy by the sheer amount of precome leaking down it. “You're so wet.”

“Am I?” Eggsy said, laying his head against Harry's heartbeat and looking down at the long fingers encircling him, committing the sight to memory. “Don't think I've ever been like that before,” Eggsy lay back and drew Harry on top of him again, feeling protected between the soft mattress and Harry's soft skin.

“So wet for me,” Harry repeated, wonderingly as he gathered more precome and teased a finger down to Eggsy's entrance.

Eggsy arched, causing Harry's finger to slide in to the first knuckle. The friction burn made Eggsy groan. “Oh fuck yeah. Tell me you got supplies.”

Harry grinned against where he'd been leaving love bites along Eggsy's shoulder. “A gentlemen is always prepared.” He reached his other hand out to open and grope about in a drawer in the bedside table.

Eggsy moaned as the finger was withdrawn, only to reenter him deeper on a lube-slick slide, until he could feel the rest of Harry's hand pressed against the globes of his arse. “C'mon, luv. Can take more than that,” Eggsy canted his hips up to change the angle and encourage Harry deeper.

“No, Eggsy,” Harry said. “I won't be rushed. I plan to take my time to thoroughly ruin you for all other men.”

“Already a done deal on that, mate,” Eggsy could feel the dopey smile on his face and brought Harry in for a kiss.

Harry smiled into the kiss, then nipped along Eggsy's jawline. “I am going to have you at least twice before I even think of letting you out of this bed. Understood?”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, there's a bit of a fade to black moment here at the end. I'm sorry. Haven't written smut in a good long while and have never written explicit Hartwin smut. I lost my nerve.
> 
> In related news, I thank you for indulging my paragraphs of basically drooling over Taron's body. Usually you have to be following my Tumblr for that kind of prattling verbal worship. Harry's reactions are what mine own would be, though Eggsy and I share an appreciation for Harry's chest (bless Bridget Jones' Baby for shirtless Colin while the Kingsman training was still in glorious effect)


	13. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally reveals the story of the secret garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this will be the penultimate chapter (planning one more as a nice wrap-up), so thanks for sticking with me through it all. :)
> 
> Also, apologies for the long wait, researching all the flowers' meanings took forever, bruvs. For. Ever.

After two rounds and a brief nap, Eggsy and Harry were sleepily making out when there came a knock at the door.  
Harry got up and slipped into a fluffy, red robe that Eggsy was already in love with (and planning to steal at the first available opportunity) to open the door. There was no one there, but a tray filled with their usual tea fixings was left at the threshold. When Harry bent to collect the tray, he groaned, low and pained-sounding.

Eggsy's senses went into high alert and he sprang from the bed to rush to his lover's side. “Harry? Are you all right, luv? Is it your head? Or your back? I knew that last position would be bad for your back.”

Harry straightened with the tray in his hands and shot Eggsy an offended glare most often seen on a cat that was cooed at and pronounced cute when it was obviously a fearsome murder machine, thank you very much. “My back is just fine, thank you. I read this,” he nodded his head towards a note on the tray. “and that caused my reaction.”

Deciding not to mention the stiffness he'd noticed as Harry stood up, Eggsy took the tray as if he were intent on getting a closer look at the note.

'Lord Hart and Eggsy,  
Please accept our heartiest congratulations on the consummation of your long-expected and long-hoped for romance.'

Eggsy looked up at Harry with wide eyes before continuing to read aloud.

'Please also consider this a petition by the undersigned staff members for both a signaling system on the doors behind which amorous moments take place and noise-canceling headphones for all employees who work in the wing of the house were said moments are likeliest to occur.'

“Fuck me, it's signed by everyone,” Eggsy groaned.

Harry pointed at him as if you say 'you see?' about the groan.

Eggsy shrugged and set up the tea things at the very foot of the bed so he and Harry could climb back in without upsetting the tray. “Still, it's nice everyone's happy for us, innit?”

“It is,” Harry hummed his agreement as he settled next to Eggsy, pulling the younger man against him and arranging the tray across their laps. “I've too long kept everyone but Merlin at arm's length. I hope to rectify that.”

Eggsy finishing pouring their tea and bit his lip. “Harry? You said you'd tell me why you locked up the garden.”

Harry looked at Eggsy, then down at the tray as if the plate of biscuits were the most interesting thing in the universe. “Ah yes.”

“You won't lock it up again, will you?” Eggsy asked, grabbing Harry's arm. “Please don't, luv.”

“No,” Harry said. “No, we will never lock it up again. I was wrong to be angry at you for tending it, when your immense fondness of things in need of care is something I absolutely love and admire about you.”

“Do you?” Eggsy ducked his head, still unused to hearing that Harry loved him.

Harry tilted his chin up and kissed him, all sweet and gentle. “I do,” he promised. “I especially shouldn't have been cross with you, when I planted that garden for you in the first place.”

Eggsy frowned in confusion. “What do you mean you planted it for me?”

Harry's eyes got the soft, sad look that broke Eggsy's heart. “For all of you, really. All the people who were left behind because of my mistakes. The garden didn't used to have walls, at all. It was just a decorative plot behind my mother's rose garden. When I was young, I'd play among the fountain, the stone paths and the statue of Saint Nicholas.”

That was the statue that Eggsy had seen in the garden. The one he'd promised his faithful duty to the garden to, the one he'd begged to have Harry returned to him. “He the patron saint of gardens?”

“No, I'm afraid Saint Fiacre is the patron saint of gardens. Also venereal diseases, which is why there are so few statues of him.” Harry smiled. “Saint Nicholas is the patron saint of children; my mother acquired it after I was born.” Harry's smile faded. “When I returned home from my failed mission, I was wracked with guilt. I walked the grounds like a specter, coming again and again to the statue. I knew his patronage and was reminded of a Saint Nicholas medal I'd been given at my baptism. That's where the idea for the medals came from,” Harry plucked gently at the one that hung from Eggsy's neck, the only thing the younger man was wearing.

“I found all the surviving families of my team and offered them a more concrete gesture of gratitude for their sacrifices. A favour, the nature of which was entirely the choice of the one calling it in. I'm a rich man and have many connections, not to mention Merlin's wizardry with technology.”

Eggsy shook his head. “But the garden, Harry. I know about the medals now; I want to know about the garden.”

“I made the statue my starting point. I accepted Charlie as my ward, but found I could not look at the child who I had made an orphan. I spent all my time working on the garden. Flowers have symbolism, I'm sure you know. I half-convinced myself that by planting flowers for those affected, I could somehow keep their lives as well-cared for as the flowers I grew in their name. I know now that was false.”

Without conscious thought, Eggsy's hand rose to the scar across his eyebrow, where a bad hit from Dean had put him in the hospital for days.

“But I kept up that silly notion for a few years, before I saw the fallacy of it. I had chosen the flowers for symbolism, not for growability. That's partly why I was so angered to see how well you've done with it; succeeding where I'd only failed.”

“I had help,” Eggsy said. “When did the wall happen? You said it wasn't bricked up before.”

Harry sighed. “In a fit of rage, I ordered the garden wall put up, a door locked and the key buried. I wanted it as shut up as my heart had become. I went back to work with renewed fervour and spent as little time as possible at home until you came along.”

“Why put in a door at all,” Eggsy asked, “if you never wanted anyone going in ever again?”

At last, Harry looked less haunted and more sheepish. “I wanted to lock it away. One cannot lock a wall.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow. “Merlin was right. You are well into metaphors, luv.” He curled close to Harry. “Tell me about the flowers. What'd you plant for Amelia? And Gazelle and everyone?”

Harry smiled again. “When I paid my visit to her, Amelia was already helping her grandmother in the kitchen. While I was sad to hear of her grandmother's passing, I was only too happy to pay Amelia's way through culinary school, though when she called in the favour it was only for a year's tuition. When she offered to be a cook here, I accepted at once. I'm only sorry I never tried to know her; she seems a strong young woman. I planted for her the crocuses. Snapdragons are associated with graciousness, particularly of women. Those are for her grandmother.”

“Gazelle,” Eggsy said, delighted to hear the stories of his friends.

“Our Miss Gazelle was her uncle's only beloved niece. She'd lost her legs due to a childhood illness and her uncle enlisted to help pay for her medical costs and prosthetics. Asters are believed not only to have healing properties, but were laid on graves of French soldiers to express the wish that things had turned out differently. I planted quite a few of those for Gazelle and her family.”

Eggsy smiled. “Over by the far wall. Near the tree swing.”

Harry nodded. “Indeed. Now, for Valentine's wife, I took my mother's roses and trained the dark crimson ones for mourning, along with tea roses for always remembering. To tell the truth, I didn't expect Richmond to be the kind of man to hit someone-”

“Valentine hit you?” Eggsy gasped.

“I had just told him his wife was dead. I should have expected it. As it was, his blow felled me, which not many men can say the same. When I got up and gave him the medal, he handed it back. Told me he wanted a new life. Richmond had been a rather successful technological genius in the United States up to then. Helped design the SIM cards that all mobiles carry. It made him as wealthy as me.”

Eggsy gaped. “But he's a gardener.”

Harry shrugged. “It had been his hobby. I could understand the desire for a change, as if that would take the pain away. Over time we developed a... call it a civil distance. Kept everyone at a civil distance, except Merlin and James.”

“Roxy's dad, right? The one who survived with you and Merlin.”

“Indeed,” Harry shook his head. “Delivering him back to his partner and the girl they'd adopted was the only good thing I could do after it all.”

Eggsy nudged Harry. “You did something else. You took in Charlie, right? He may be a right prat, but you gave him a new life.”

Harry's eyes clouded. “Only because I took away the old one. Charlie came from a background not too dissimilar to your own. His parents were trying to make a better life for themselves, for him. There's an entire area of flowers just for him. Marigolds for grief, petunias for resentment, cyclamen for resignation.”

“Wow,” Eggsy shook his head. “You were not setting him up for anything good there.”

“It was an echo of my own feelings.”

Eggsy nodded. “And because of that, you never talked to him or hung with him. You just avoided him 'cause you felt bad and let him get his own way.”

Harry sighed. “I am aware of how my negligence has affected Charlie. Maybe if I start now to try and make amends, he will not turn out to be another weak-chinned snob.”

“Better not be,” Eggsy agreed. “I ain't having a step-ward or whatever that's a complete dickhead.”

The silence that followed was long enough for Eggsy to replay his words and freak out.

“Oh shit,” he dropped his head to his hands. “Not that- I ain't saying we're gonna- not that I don't want- but-”

“-but perhaps we should wait a bit before we set a date,” Harry filled in, trying and failing to keep a grin from his lips. “And perhaps you should give me some time to work out a proper proposal. We've only just scratched the surface of the carnal activities I envisioned with you. I imagine that will occupy quite a bit of our time. After that we'll worry about the future.”

Eggsy grinned. “Yeah?” He shifted to straddle Harry's lap. “Wanna scratch out a couple more of those carnal activities?”

Harry tilted his head as if in thought. “We could. But don't you want to know what I planted for you?”

“Ah,” Eggsy shifted to sit back against Harry's knees. “I think I already know. Process of elimination, right? Rox told me what all the flowers were, minus the symbolism, and all that's left are the hyacinths and forget-me-nots. What do they mean then?”

“Forget-me-nots are what it says on the tin, meant for keeping people's memories alive. Those are for my team members, which is why there are so many.”

Eggsy nodded. “They were spilling over the old fountain before I cleaned it up. Took some pictures on my phone, if you want to see. Now, the hyacinths?”

“The purple ones are for sorrow and a plea for forgiveness; they are for your mother,” Harry said.

Eggsy took Harry's hands. “I liked them best. Planted the daisies around them. Good to know Mum and little Dais get to be together, even if only symbolically.”

Harry kissed Eggsy's knuckles. “For you, the white hyacinths. They mean two things. I planted them for the idea of praying for you, for you to grow up well even without a father. But they also stand for loveliness and as you sit before me, you Eggsy Unwin, are the loveliest thing I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

Kissing Harry seemed the only way to repay such a compliment, so Eggsy did so again and again and again.


	14. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Eggsy have their friends over for dinner. Special Appearance by The Godawful Orange Jacket ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAME UP WITH A PERFECTLY LOGICAL REASON FOR KINGSMAN TITLES IN AN AU I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF NOT GONNA LIE. BLESS VERY BRITISH PROBLEMS FOR THE IDEA

When Alistair Morton arrived at Kingsman Manor for dinner that evening, he brought his daughter, his husband and a garment bag which was unzipped to reveal a bright orange jacket. “You said you wanted to liven this place up,” he said, voice monotone, but a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

Harry looked at the offending garment as if it were an insult to his Queen, country, and mother.

Eggsy bent double with laughter and loved the gaudy thing on sight.

“Percival,” Harry said. “You continue to be quietly insane.”

Morton just smiled, unrepentant.

“Hold on,” Eggsy tilted his head. “He said his name was Alistair. Why'd you call him Percival?”

“Ah,” Harry said, pausing as if gathering his thoughts.

James, Alistair's husband, jumped in with a smug grin. “You know how it is with nicknames. When at school, the four of us fancied the idea of being knights. Each chose a name to go by. Al was Percival, I was Lancelot, Harry was Galahad and Merlin still goes by his.”

“I prefer it,” was all Merlin would say on the matter. “Besides, I do not believe someone who runs around calling himself Eggsy when his parents named him Gary has much room to cast aspersions about nicknames. Aye, lad?”

Eggsy shrank under Merlin's stern glare. “Yeah, right you are Merlin.”

Roxy shook her head. “They may look like serious old men-”

“-Hey!” chorused Harry, James, and Eggsy who was sidling up to Harry.

“-but they are just overgrown schoolboys.” She leveled her eyes at Harry, even though she had to tilt her head back a fair amount to meet his gaze. “Thankfully, there won't be any more dramatics of the type that will scare my fiancee, will there?” She tacked on a 'sir' as an afterthought.

Harry shook his head. “No, Miss Morton and my congratulations.”

Eggsy was already across the room and hugging Roxy. “Congrats, mate! You finally did the whole down on one knee thing at last?”

“Actually,” Gazelle said, pushing a cart laden with covered plates and bottles of wine into the room, “I did the proposing. Harry's will spoiled the surprise of Roxy popping the question, so I thought I'd do it instead.”

Roxy continued to narrow her eyes at Harry.

Eggsy laughed. “Down, Rox,” he patted her shoulder then went to hug Gazelle. “He was dead at the time. Forgive him.”

Everyone sat around the table, Harry at the head and Eggsy at his left hand.

Gazelle, uncovered the plates and Eggsy chuckled when he saw an array of McDonald's wrapped bundles sitting on hella expensive china plates.

Harry was unshaken and just nodded to her. “I'll have the Big Mac, please.”

With a subtle and graceful motion from Gazelle, Harry had the hamburger and a side of fries in front of him.

Eggsy was still chuckling, but chose his meal and Gazelle continued around the table, settling herself with chicken nuggets at the empty space next to Roxy. “Amelia was so busy with the cake she's working on, she forgot to cook dinner. I improvised.”

Harry smiled over at Gazelle as benignly as if his other half wasn't whispering dirty things about 'the secret sauce' into his ear. “Good thinking, thank you, Miss Gazelle. How is Amelia doing with said cake?”

“She's acting like it's the finals of The Great British Bake Off and she'll take the whole thing if her Showstopper comes out perfectly.”

Eggsy smiled and nudged Harry's arm. “I told you. People care about you. No more shutting yourself away. I ain't dating a recluse, you get me?”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Harry said, giving Eggsy's left hand a gentle kiss on the knuckle of his ring finger. “Now that I know how much beauty is waiting for me.”

The moment was ruined when James elbowed his partner in the side. “How come you never say such romantic stuff to me anymore? Has our love lost its illustrious luster?”

Alistair shook his head fondly and touched the side of his husband's head. “I believe our only child requested no more dramatics, mon cher.”

“Cara mia,” James replied, gently kissing up Percival's suited arm.

Roxy, meanwhile, had buried her head in her hands. “Dads, please stop with the Addams family references. At least while I'm in the room. Or country.”

Merlin cleared his throat. “Clearly, Roxanne has more sense than either of you,” he turned his attention to where Harry and Eggsy were feeding each other fries, “or you two. Ye gods,” he stared up at the ceiling, “thank you for making me aromantic and asexual so that I never will deal with this nonsense myself.”

Amelia chose that moment to push a second trolley with a three tier cake covered in chocolate icing and dozens of fondant flowers in a variety of colours so like those in the secret garden that Eggsy couldn't contain the gasp. “It's beautiful.”

“I'd planned it for your birthday,” Amelia smiled. “Thought it was better now, as a celebration.”

“How right you were,” Harry stood and, if a little stiffly, hugged Amelia. “Thank you. It's truly spectacular.”

Amelia beamed. “Just glad to have you back, sir. And a bit more visible. Dispels the rumour that we were all working for Merlin and he was the true Lord Hart, supervising us in an Undercover Boss fashion.”

Merlin chuckled into his wine.

When Harry returned to his place, he didn't sit. Instead he raised his wine glass. “To Lord Unwin of Kingsman Manor.” He smiled at his beloved. “To Eggsy and the warmth he's brought into my life.”

Eggsy raised his glass. “To Lord Hart and the garden we'll be tending together.”

“To our future daughter-in-law,” James said, raising his glass to Gazelle.

“And the bridal suit we'll be making our dearest daughter,” Alistair added.

Merlin also stood. “To letting go of the past and new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” everyone chorused, as they sipped their wine.

From that day forward, Kingsman Manor was a bright and cheerful place, full of friends and laughter and a love that grew stronger every day (even on days when Eggsy wore The Godawful Orange Jacket, as Harry named it)

As for the garden, it was always open now. Open and awake and alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, myself, and my story Perks of the Job are all nominated on tumblr for The Kingsman Awards @the-kingsman-awards. I'd be ever so grateful and desperately happy if you'd consider voting for me if you liked this story.


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